


Boxes

by barcelona (orphan_account)



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-13
Updated: 2012-04-13
Packaged: 2017-11-03 13:51:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/382023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/barcelona
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Martin disappears, Douglas and Arthur clean out his attic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Boxes

**Author's Note:**

> Originally for meme prompt: [Here.](http://cabinpres-fic.dreamwidth.org/3282.html?thread=3990994#cmt3990994)

...

There wasn’t much to be said for the place - it was an attic after all, but it almost looked like a home. In fact, it had been a home - or a house at least, a place of shelter to escape the wears of the day. Though maybe it was just a painful reminder of what someone didn’t have, Douglas wondered as he stepped into the small space atop the shared student house.

Douglas paused with his hand on the door frame, and closed his eyes. He shouldn’t have volunteered for this; he should have made Caitlin and Simon leave their busy lives for two minutes to remember their brother, to learn who Martin was – had been.

Too late now, Douglas lamented. Besides, he doubted Arthur could do it alone even if he could still turn back. It had taken quite a lot of patience and insisting just to convince Arthur that the task had to be completed in the first place. The young steward had taken the implications pretty hard, but he still held on to hope no matter what anyone said.

Arthur still believed in his Skipper.

Douglas wondered if Martin had realized how important he had become.

... __

_Tirana? Never been there._

_Oh it’s lovely, you’ll enjoy it._

_Why don’t I believe you?_

...

Taking that first step into the attic, Douglas glanced around the small space, noting the bed tucked in the corner, the desk by the single window, the mini-fridge, the small television sat precariously on an end table, and a short bookshelf sporting half-a-dozen aeroplane models on top and absolutely packed with reading material (all of which were no doubt aviated related).

The packing boxes and tape roller that had been so graciously provided by Martin’s landlord sat in the middle on a small, brown oval rug.

Everything felt empty, almost lonely. Though Douglas supposed being the home of a single pilot it was destined to be so. Even the flat Douglas inhabited on a regular basis could pass for deserted after long trips.

... __

_Douglas, this is Milo, Milo this is my first officer Douglas Richardson._

_Milo is the proud new owner of a Cessna, CJ3._

_Is he now?_

...

Although mostly bare, the wall beside the bed held some pictures, and it was to these that Douglas first moved. He grabbed a box off the rug and set it on the blue sheeted single before taking in the four perfectly framed photos.

The first wasn’t actually a picture at all, but Martin’s final CPL exam results announcing his qualification for flying. A red-written “Finally!” was scrawled under the declaration of his passing, a simple smiley face drawn next to it.

The photo right above the results was an aeroplane Douglas didn’t recognize, but held the emblem of a small airline on it. In front of the plane stood a fresher Martin next to a much older woman whom wore captain epaulets. His first job, Douglas mused.

The third photo was of two young toddlers, a boy and a girl, holding up crayon drawings of aeroplanes and sporting wide grins. On the aeroplanes rode a giant of a person in a cape and what could only be interpreted as a pilot’s uniform. Both pictures were largely labeled, “Uncle Martin”, or “Unkel Marten”, in the case of the boy.

And the fourth Douglas had some trouble making out, so he gently unhooked it from the wall.

Upon closer inspection, he found that a good quarter of the photograph had been eaten by the blurred face of one Arthur Shappey - doing his best to take the photo and be in it too. Over the steward’s shoulder, and further back, stood two men arguing on the tarmac next to Gertie. Well Douglas said arguing, but it was sort of a one-sided fight.

The figure that was clearly the first officer himself was holding a prominent hat out of the reach of a short, gingered captain. If Douglas remembered correctly, that had been at the end of Martin’s first flight and Douglas had grown tired of the younger man reassuring everyone of his position of command. Martin had hopped for about two minutes before Carolyn had stepped in.

Ah, Douglas could see her too if he squinted, hidden by Arthur’s left ear.

Turning the photo over, Douglas’ face softened at the inscription happily written across the back, “Welcome to the pack, Skip!”

... __

_It’s just one flight, and it’s only an hour or two._

_Martin, he’s hardly been in the air long enough to know how to land._

_He has as much flight experience as I do!_

...

“It’s a bit small, isn’t it,” Douglas turned to see Arthur standing hesitantly in the doorway, fiddling with his shirt hem and looking about as though he shouldn’t be there.

“Decided to join me after all?”Arthur nodded and Douglas smiled and held up the photograph, “Remember this?”

A few tentative steps and Arthur looked over Douglas’ shoulder, his face brightening slightly as he took the framed photo from the pilot’s hand. Squeezing Arthur’s shoulder, Douglas left the younger man to pack the pictures as he headed over to the small desk.

There wasn’t much on it save for a few folders and notebooks. A small metal cup held pens, pencils, highlighters and scissors. Opening the drawers didn’t provide much insight, since most of them were full of even more files and old receipts.

Martin had certainly been organized, if nothing else.

“Arthur?” Arthur looked over from where he had put the last picture in the box, “Why don’t you start to clear this out, I’ll take care of the books.”

... __

_What’s all the racket about?_

_A plane’s gone missing._

_Missing?_

...

Douglas didn’t look much over the material he was pulling from the shelves, but from the few glances it seemed his earlier speculation about subject had been spot on.

If it wasn’t a text about aeroplanes, it was about how to build them, maintain them, who flew them, and how to properly fly them. Everything from picture books to well-worn flight manuals. In fact there were so many manuals that Douglas began to wonder if Martin had gone to just one flight school or if he had hopped around until he found one that would take him. He certainly wouldn’t have put it past the incomp-

Douglas stopped mid-thought and looked down at the small glossy book in his hand: “Planes of WWII.” American publisher, price tag was still stuck on it – must’ve picked it up on a trip. Which one? It wasn’t a very old book, more recently acquired. They were in America a few months ago, maybe then. Had Martin had the chance to read it? Had he enjoyed it?

Why did it matter?

... __

_They’ll find Skip, won’t they Douglas?_

_I don’t know, Arthur._

...

Douglas sighed and put the last manual in the box, folding the flaps close he quickly sealed it. The thing was probably destined to be thrown away in a skip, or burned. The man highly doubted Martin’s siblings would be so sentimental as to keep the mundane collection. They’d probably never even open it to see what was inside. Well, maybe the van would arrive one box short then.

There was a loud bang as Arthur dropped the box he was holding, and Douglas did his best not to jump and failed miserably. Snapping towards the clueless steward, Douglas was about to bite out some stinging remark when he saw the younger man staring with a face of open disbelief at the door. Curious, Douglas turned and felt his own face morph to match Arthur’s.

Surely he was dreaming.

Or perhaps prayers were sometimes answered.

“S-surprise!”

End.


End file.
